Sin
by shizutte
Summary: I have committed far too many sins ever possible I doubt they are ever forgivable. Behold them, as I lay them out for you. Hisana's recount on her life in Soul Society.
1. Betrayer

Sin  
Chapter 1. Betrayer

* * *

I have sinned. 

I have betrayed the only one on both sides of life that I should never have betrayed, the only one I ever need to care for, the only one whose entire existence so far lay in my hands.

I will not deceive myself that she will survive, let alone lead a happy life. I am both a murderer and a coward. I have left my own baby sister in the basest level of hell and prayed with a lingering wistfulness for my own peace of mind. I have no courage to give her a decent painless death when I cannot give her life, and left her to suffer and die without even witnessing the sin I have committed.

I chose my own life over that of my sister. I have betrayed her, grievously so.

I did not abandon her, I murdered her.

Then, calmly I make my way to the queue and sign myself up for work, for survival.  
All the while, my baby sister is wailing her lungs out, somewhere too far away to hear.

Yet I cannot escape the thrill sound of a tiny life, the voice of violent innocence engaged in futile struggle, sending tendrils snaking around my ankles, straining to pull me back.

I look at myself in wonder as I continue to breathe, never drowning as I sink into my own evil.

fancied that I will have no appetite, yet before I can feel guilt, I look down at my own bowl and see the tip of my chopsticks scraping up the last grain of rice. It would have better, if I cannot enjoy the taste of food. But I do, enormously so.

All the things they say, about that a person faced with her own unforgivable sins cannot eat or drink in peace for the food will taste coarse and the water bland and so on, are not true. The aroma of rice is as solid as the dark sin that seats in the centre of my soul. Hunger scrapes my stomach, no less painful than the thin cries of my baby sister drilling into my skull.

Despite all that, I can even sleep, dreamless. The moment I lay down in the servants' quaters, tiredness manages to overwhelm consciousness and send me into the deep lightless abyss of sleep.

Hisana, you are the most cowardly and cruel woman, living or dead.

And it hurts to admit, that I am Hisana.

* * *

Thank you Alaena Night. Error corrected. I can never be free of grammar errors...sigh. 


	2. Suicidal

Sin  
Chapter 2. Suicidal

* * *

I would advice the reading of my other fic 'Remembrance' before this fic. The reason is that the events are described in the other fic from Byakuya's perspective while this fic is purely what goes on inside Hisana's mind. So unless you read the other fic, some parts of this fic won't make much sense.

* * *

I do not know what took over me to do such an atrocious thing.

I hear those words from my own lips and see them passing though the air between him and me. I sense the disturbance in the wind as his frown deepened by a minute fraction.

I watched all that with morbid fascination.

Kill her.

Kill her kill her kill her…

The spectators in my mind chants incessantly; the crowd stomps and bangs on the railing.

…kill her kill her kill her kill her…

I formed those words again, and send them floating into the charged air. Dark tides swirl at my ankles and suck sense from my mind.

I held on tight to those meaningful human sounds I no longer recognise. They are the path to my salvation.

He is still, perhaps contemplating how to kill an annoying servant with minimum fuss. I am thrilled.

The impact landed on my head; the world flies past and I see a vast expanse of grass-dotted soil. I closed my eyes and shut out the world.

The weight of sin collapses into the pulsing waves that carry me into the darkness.

The warm darkness embraces me like the dying embrace of my mother whose face I cannot remember. My sins started then, when her breath stopped for me.

So this is it, finally, the end of it all.  
I search my waning mind for some last thoughts.

Then the peace of passing shatters and sunlight filters through. I behold the same soil and yellowing grass.

How wilful of me, to think there is an escape.

I can never escape, no; I ought to never think of escape. I have sinned, a sin so large I cannot ever erase its traces.

For all the suffering I filled her short life with, I will live, live to suffer a million times more. That is my deserved retribution.

I have sinned again then, to try and escape; a two-fold sin for my own selfishness.

Live, Hisana, and live for your sister. In the darkness of the collapsed building my dying mother let out these words as her life trickled away in red. How do I apologise to words long buried in memory? How do I tell her that I have lived on the death of my sister?

But I can only continue to live. Live to hear the thin wails recount my betrayal. Live to see those trusting eyes void of light. Live to feel the flame of hatred under my every step. Live to repent for the sins I have committed that shall never be forgiven.

The long handle of the rake is rough as I gather the leaves fluttering in the autumn wind.

The Master of the house is long gone. I do not remember apologising.

Another sin on the record of my life.

* * *

Thank you Lima-hime -

Writing double-perspective is a hell lot of fun, but sometimes I wonder if it's worth the effort. I am trying to differ Hisana's tone from Byakuya's as much as possible without giving myself mild split-personalities or kill my writing. Hope it come out ok to you readers...


	3. Reprieve

Sin  
Chapter 3. Reprieve

* * *

Sometimes I wonder if there is an almighty up above.

Else, where do the weird twists in fate come from?

On those spring nights, cool as water, I hear the calls of trees. Time presses them to bloom, and year after year, they burn their life away in solitude of each other.

I can hear them, somehow.

Such a useless ability, fit only for the daughter of a noble house, who will blush as prettily and palely as the sakura petals, and keep her silence like a delicate doll. Had I something other than this whimsical power, Rukia…

Those same heavy words, I no longer want to taste them.

For now, I only hope that the trees can find peace from the witness I bear for the dying dance of petals. They are the best in this side of death, I can tell, reserved for the eyes of the head of the Kuchiki clan, no one else. Perhaps this sin of intrusion does not count, for it is the trees whose desperate voices draw me in.

At lease there is something I can do for another. Though, it is so little, and I am far too unworthy of their splendour.

The trees know only one other human, the Master of this house, head of Kuchiki clan, who resides in this private courtyard. I become the unintended eavesdropper on the intimate details of his life.

Byakuya-san, they comments, likes spicy food. 'Byakuya-san dropped a keiseikan into the bowl of chilli powder yesterday,' the white plum dangles a tasty morsel of gossip, 'and he licked it,' she smugly adds. The few senbonzakura declare it a disgusting behaviour, while 'kawaii ne,' goes a single shiroyamazakura. I silently agree with the latter.

The Kuchiki Byakuya the trees know are far from the cold shadow I see sweeping past rows of kneeling servants. He is barely older than I am, if the time-sense of trees is reliable.

The old shidarezakura sombrely remarks, 'He whose responsibility rests heavier than the jade keiseikan must leave his true self where no human eyes pry.' The gossip cease for but a moment.

I wonder if it pains him when the world laugh and cry on simple whim. Perhaps he is used to it.

I don't know; though I will never grow use to myself.

I know, that I will never stop the bitterness that overwhelms my sense when I wake from a forgotten dream, and taste those sour words aloud in the icy darkness.

"Gomennasai, Rukia."

* * *

ne, everyone, I have a nagging feeling this chapter is a little incoherent...so gomennasai...

and I personally disagree with Hisana on the matter of Byakuya's 'disgusting' quotes senbonzakura behavior...Byakuya fans... don't kill me for this comment...


	4. Hanami

Sin  
Chapter 4. Hanami

* * *

Tonight the moon hides away and I need not see so clearly the path behind me littered with irreparable sins. 

In the complete darkness, I can trace the unwilling descend of flowers with my ears. They disengage themselves from the wood that gives them life, only to throw themselves into the air for a moment of glory.

Then they perish, stained by soil.

Or is it the soil that is stained by the petals, their soft bodies crushed and ground into the earth?

Another year, their life will seep into the soil through the roots up the branches, and into new blooms that scatter themselves into the wind, and into death. And how unhesitant it is, the way they rush into eager display of pink flames that consume in one night, their silent labour in a whole year.

Do they suffer regret?

Hisana, he calls out.

I hid my surprise as the trees shake in suppressed glee; a shower of silk encloses me for a moment. I managed a calm greeting, and silently curse the trees for their prank.

Would it amuse them, if I am to die on the spot from the petals of his blade?

Not that I will be saddened by my own demise though, since only the trees will be deprived of a witness to their yearly extravagant sacrament. It was a decision made since our last encounter. I shall not try to get myself killed; neither will I try to prevent it.

I waited, yet only gentleness caressed my skin.

Perhaps he thinks it below him to execute a lowly servant, intruder or not. Perhaps it is the Byakuya-san known only to the trees who is the one with me tonight.

He spoke, voice softened by the falling petals, and revealed himself to be the latter.

The intimate darkness renders everyone void of form and substance. The trees, he, I. We are but the night air that stretches on into infinity. No memory, no obligation, no duties.

The solitude in his voice is so child-like.

It echoed in the chamber of my mind, stirring up the dust and revealing to me, the last child I embraced.

I murdered that child.

The spell breaks.

He picks up the mantle of reality; I shoulder the graveness of my past. I step down into humbleness for him to rise into nobility.

For once, the trees are mutually silent as we complete our ritual.

Our paths diverge.

Impulse suddenly caught me, as his presence receded. The improper address passed through my lips before I can stop it.

"It's a cold night, don't stay out too long, Byakuya-sama."

I cannot help but reach out across the distance.

Because he must not do so, and his night is so cold.

* * *

.  
Hisana has confessed, so I shall say too, that I suffer from writer-ly sins. There is a certain fear that no one is reading these incoherent stuff and the world is better without them. So dear readers, if you'd care to observe, I tend to update after reviews. 

I imagine a hypothesis that all the wip laying about are the result of such fears.  
I hope I am far from truth and those intelligent and motivated people are just out of inspiration for the moment. I hope I will become one of those people, some day. Though then again, I might just be correct that we all need people to assure us our things are worth reading. I fear that it is so.

Writers and reviewers out there, you may mutilate me, for I confess the reviews I receive far outnumber the ones I wrote. It is not right that I should expect reviews. After all, there is not much to write most of the time anyway, as I read other people's things and mine. I ought to try curb my need of mental assurance. Though any review, of course, would still be very much welcomed.

I wonder here, who has the patience to read my ramblings up to here where it shall finally end?

Lastly, thank you so much, again, Lima-hime, this chapter has doubled in length due to your review...I would like to hate myself for this desire of affirmation.


	5. Tainted

Sin  
Chapter 5. Tainted

* * *

I will marry you, he says.

I let shock conquer me, then disbelief. Perhaps my soul voices its joy, but my mind is too cluttered for it to be heard.

'Hisana, be the Mistress of the house.'

He stops my weak refusal with a bold kiss. I know, I know, they say with their warmth.

I can feel the icy-cold of his hand cradling my back through layers of my kimono.

We are like two children on the verge of committing a mischief so tempting. We start to recall the last imprints of the cane, knowing that we will walk towards the dreaded punishment.

Yet, we chose to hold on tight to each other, and jump down right into the crime for nothing but an urgency to do so.

He knows the risks and offences. Yet he is young enough to slight them, to walk confidently down the path of probable destruction, and foolish enough to do it for a worthless woman.

I am stupid enough not to leave, and selfish enough not to stop him.

We are all like foolish children, but I cannot lighten his burden like children easing the throbbing pain of their raw palm with the simple knowledge that an accomplice, a fellow sufferer, exists with them.

Only he will walk out of this protected cove into the unforgiving light of dark politics, gossips, and all other evils of the human mind. Only he will be pried and poked and asked of questions without answers that suddenly manifest themselves at his slight stumble from absolute nobility.

Nothing will fall upon me, for he will not allow it to happen, and for I have already been to the blackest abyss of human nature to which small hurtful words are kind in comparison.

He will suffer, I can only watch.

How can I ever repent enough, if every step of mine takes me further into sweet sin?

And it is sweet. I am ashamed to admit so. His eyes smile even when his face does not, like the fleeing shadow of a fish darting in the depth. His fingertips are cool but their traces are warm, and there is sweetness in things I cannot speak of.

He pretends not to see, the fierce under currents threatening to undermine his position. I know his resolution; how can I ever be worthy of that?

He tries to calm my worries with silent embraces. I try to touch his worries.

Our marriage lays half in merciless light, and half in nourishing night. If it does not shatter from this unbalanced stress, perhaps we will burn out first.

Half a year into married life, the tea starts to turn bitter.

I know not what they put in my tea, but when death did not visit me the first time I downed the tea, I know what it does. I know more than enough, from the past I try to renounce.

Noble houses are noble in nothing but blood.

I can only hope they keep it from him. It is a trade I secretly conducts with the eyes that leer at me from within the shadows behind his back. The plotting darkness subsides with every night that passes in that bitterness I drink down.

That is what I can do to for him. Even though, it is far from enough.  
.  
.  
.

* * *

Thank you Lima-hime and Kira Yori and everyone who's been reading on up to now. -


	6. Despair

Sin  
Chapter 6. Despair

* * *

Inuzuri, Rukongai.

How innocent it sounds, pretty syllables that disperse into the air like petals in the light breeze.

Especially, camouflaged in a passing comment made by the servants as they escort the carriage through the streets of Rukongai.

These places, they can never be named. Names are human things, demure human rules and soft human attachments.

In these alternate worlds, the most unimaginable vice clashes in a twisted symphony that slowly strips the soul of humanity, leaving only the bare white bones of animal instincts.

These places are not human enough to be properly named.

They are not nightmarish places as some imagined to be. Nightmare tests the limit of your imagination; reality knows no limit.

The worst part is not seeing all that horror dug up from the depth of hell flourishing in the crimson air, nor is it the constant knowledge that death treads behind one's every step. These are minor things.

The worst part is to know that eventually, everyone will get used to them.

The human self has a conscience, and it believes in "Good". No one survive on just the "Good" because "Good" is putting others before self. Death will come first before "Good" can ever get to breathe.

But worry not, for the body is made of flesh and blood that only knows survival. It will make a person look away when his neighbour is robbed in broad daylight, and take over his remaining possession if he is killed. It will make a father lock his sweet young daughter barely thirteen winters old in with the local gang to pacify them, and secretly wish for more daughters to save his skin. In the long race of life, it will remain strong when willpower has worn thin.

The mind will fall away, piece by piece, until the most gruesome murder cannot provide enough stimulation to wake the fading mind. That is how people are changed into something not so people-like in these further reaches of Rukongai.

By then, it becomes a good thing, for they no longer have a human mind, and thus no longer suffer from human pains.

Before that happens, all there will be is the burning hell in which the mind wages a losing battle against the body.

Few can escape; I almost did not.

I had been groping away in that painful darkness so saturated with fear that I could not afford to stop and think why it hurt so much every step I take.

I must be thankful, to fate, to my glimmer of power that is a curse and blessing, and to the Kuchiki house. Yet I cannot help being ungrateful, for salvation came too late.

I had already lost Rukia to my own survival race.

I escaped by leaving her there in my place to struggle in eventual doom.

It is a sin against her to betray her, and another sin upon the first I have committed, when sudden realisation strikes me that I have almost forgotten about this past life, this sin against my own kin.

The inner devil catches me unprepared as the carriage rolls past the shabbiness of this land of past, now putting up a calm facade in the noon sun, or perhaps in nobility's presence.

This horror here I relish in my mind again cannot be exposed to taint such a perfect afternoon, for Byakuya-sama, you are the perfection that is so innocent.

You are naively unaware, just like I had been unaware of how past can spring upon me, and bring up the dead buried in the murk, from within waters deceivingly calm.

You smile, for you are bringing your dear wife on a surprise trip to see the spectacular bloom of white plum stretching over hills and valleys. That smile is so bright.

Bright like the sunshine, which is so dazzling it scorches the shadows within me.

I smile, for the part of me that has never seen Rukongai before is truly happy.

.

.

"Rukia!"

I turn to the sound like a reflex that cannot be overridden. A flash of vibrant red dance like flame then ebb away into the milling crowd.

The sounds tumble and toss in the waves of human noise before reaching my ears, barely recognisable.

I never think that I will live to hear the name from the lips of another.

It cannot be my imagination, for I have sunken too far into the blessings of marriage to frequently re-examine the darker regions of my past.

The word now calls up wrathful waves that threaten to swallow me. Gratification foams and then burst against the rocks.

I stand up too fast, and reality shies away. My hands feel too warm, the light is too glaring, and a passing breeze steals the remains of my breath.

The steady heartbeat somewhere close brings his face back into my newly-recovered vision. He drops his usual mask of nonchalance over a face of concern as servants swarm to his aid.

He is perceptive, I know him too well. He does not ask but the doubt will lodge itself somewhere and grow larger by day. The silence is questioning.

I can hide no longer.

We wait with mutual silence punctured by customary words of little meaning. Servants scuttle by.

Peace, valuable and short, before I unleash the chaos that upsets the world.

The room is cleared by the falling night. The threadbare conversation gives a sigh of relief and falls apart.

He quietly waits, for me to ready my mind.

"Byakuya-sama..."

"Hisana?"

The last long pause; there's no turning back.

"I have something to tell you."

Past swells up, higher than full-moon tides.

It carries the scents of the dust that wrapped around my ankles in dirty splashes as I ran from my sister; the putrefying scent of a dead past rising to life.

Past, a lifetime away, coming nearer, enveloping the present.

Those memories swallow me, now, as I shiver in his arms that suddenly feel so foreign.

"I have sinned, Byakuya-sama..."

.

* * *

Firstly, to Lima-hime, yes those people in the Kuchiki House are putting poison in Hisana's tea -.  
And they are counting on Hisana not to tell anyone since she does not want to give Byakuya more troubles...

Poison is a toxic substance, Venom is a toxic substance carried in the fang/sting/whatsoever of an animal. Therefore, snakes are venomous but not poisonous I suppose. -

Unfortunately, things are remaining cloudy in this chapter cuz I have taken a little detour into the past… Next chapter perhaps things will clear up..? I can't even predict my writing…such a failure…

.

I foresee that I will not be updating any new chapters for some time in the near future, for I am going overseas where internet access is not convenient most of the times. In fact, I will probably be in some mountainous region without even access to a phone, most of the times. Therefore, this last chapter before I can come back to write more shall be longer than usual I hope. -  
I'm sure Rukongai is not such a horrid place, though I'd just like to be drama for the fun of writing dramatic language.

So goodbye everyone for the time being…


	7. Selfish

Chapter 7. Selfish

* * *

.  
There are those who have never thrown one curse in their whole life, yet fall to their ridiculous death tripping over a pea. Then there are those who seem to have done whatever evil there might ever exist, in their long lives that seem to last forever.

If that is true for all, then perhaps whoever looking down from above considers me half-evil. I have considered myself beyond measurements; I might have been too obsessed with myself.

.  
.

The first morning of my fourth winter in the Kuchiki house, I wake to the sharp scent of new snow, and the peculiar awareness of my life, having ebbed away quietly since that first cup of bitter tea, until it finally crosses the threshold of silence.

I am much used to waking in the morning to find myself alive that this sudden change calls to mind the underlying currents of memory.

The tea, the ritual bitterness for which I am suddenly reminded of its intention, the conflicts that never went away but morph into complications, the old me.

Like a lifetime has passed, while I become accustomed, accustomed to silk that does not chaff the skin, accustomed to not see the kneeling servants, accustomed to honorific trailing behind my name, accustomed to forgetting how chores are done, accustomed to the taste of nightly tea. So used to them they faded into my subconscious mind, buried by dusts of daily whims.

It frightens me, to suddenly look down and remember, that I have been standing on but a thin branch, over the bottomless whirlpool.

The red plums bloom particularly early. I will be able to recall that clearly, for it is their flaming colours that hide the crimson of blood upon the virgin snow. I have been surprised by its vivid shade, for my sins should have corrupted it with blackness.

The snow burns, the air cuts.

The saving grace is his absence, and the mute nature of servants.

But how I want him to share this pain, sinfully so.

.  
.

It is only late into the fourth winter when the malice in my tea starts to take full effect.

That sudden sensation of life that is no longer there shouts out acutely now, since its first muffled awakening.

They are surely skilled, for only I can tell the slow painless dissipation of my life from within. The pretty façade will not crumble till the very last moment. I wonder if they know their attempt at hiding their scheme suits me very well. I have never intended to survive my superficial wellbeing.

"Byakuya-sama, it is for you, all of that, all for you."

The snowflakes catch my words and seal them in crystalline graves.

"But Hisana can't even let you know."

The trees, clad in white, bow deeply to no one in particular.

.  
.

I overestimated the skills of my would-be murderers when the fourth-division taichou drops by to visit. Her glance lingers on me a slight moment too long before realisation strikes me. I excuse myself and retire like a shy wife.

The perceptive young woman nevertheless finds her way to my inner chambers. I should never have made the slip. Now is perhaps too late. Another blunder, and I don't even know who to apologise to, if apology can ever restore this fragile peace.

'You should stop drinking tea.' Her clinical gaze renders me quite transparent.

'I want the best for Byakuya-sama.' The only truth I can offer, and no more.

She pauses in calculation.

Please, I plead to the stagnant air, let there be no more battles fought for my sake.

She examines her thoughts and prolongs my agony. I cannot even strangle her, for that huge presence of power pins me to the wall, probing my tangled mind and illuminating my absolute inability.

Then she unleashes her final judgement.

'If that is what you want. As a taichou of Gotei-13 I will say nothing of this.'

The lingering self-pity in me whimpered as it is smothered and buried under rational relief. The new-born guilt at that pathetic attempt of self-pity applies itself onto my ever-strengthening resolve.

Aside from that, reality continues on tip-toe.

'But as a woman, I want you to treasure yourself.' She retreats to the doorway. 'You know him the best.'

The screens slide shut with a polished click. Her words hang in the air, refusing to be banished. They inch into my consciousness and lodge them there with her smooth subtlety.

They carve a lethal crack in my resolve.

.  
.

The courtyard is still. Even the carps swim languidly into their own thoughts. Ripples melt away in glassy stillness. Peace resides on every marble-smooth surface. Their composure mocks my inner chaos.

I know. I do know, perfectly.

I am stabbing a blade into the heart of my beloved, so that he no longer has to walk on blades. I am collapsing the long suffering into a short excruciating pain.

Perhaps you think they are the same. There are some things you do not know. No, only I know the best.

The heart will eventually heal, even if he does not allow it to. To fall in love so easily, he has to fall out of it with ease as well.

He is a man of honours; honours will one day weigh more than I do. I was never worthy of him, I am never going to be. I will not allow him to suffer the knowledge that one day, necessity will demand my absence.

The good things in life never lasts long, I will end them at their pinnacle. Memories untainted are better than reality.

And for the last truth, perhaps that selfishness in me wants an end.

.  
.

Will I be sad, if I never get to see next year blooming into spring?

How sad, if I will cease to feel even sorrow.

.  
.  
.

* * *

.finally back from vacation . It snowed sooo heavily. I am rather revived by the cold. 

Thanks for waiting, Lima-hime-san. Hope you have not suffered adverse side-effects from the tea.

I wonder if the people over at the anime side know that it is cloud friction, or rather, friction of water droplets within rain clouds that result in lightning, not air friction. There are far too small and few molecules in per unit volume of air to result in any noticeable build-up of electricity if they ever gets to rub together much. Point out my mistake, if any scientific people reading this know otherwise.

Sometimes I do wonder if Hisana died because of her own mentality. Some varieties of tea can taste bitter in the wrong way if improperly made. It seems perfectly reasonable, for Hisana to die of her own morbid imagination. Though then again, I've just confirmed her poisoning via Unohaha-taichou's immaculate perception.

I am going to hate Hisana as I write… such a pessimistic woman. How dare she inflict so much suffering on Byakuya and excuse her cruelty as 'it is for the good of Byakuya-sama' when actually it is her own suicidal inclination acting up. Anyone reads Emily of Emerald Hill? "I want the best for you" she had said, and then smothered him psychologically. No connections, though.

Someone, teach me a good way of leaving blank lines, it is getting very irritating...


	8. Desertion

Sin

Chapter 8. Desertion

* * *

This fifth winter with Byakuya-sama is exceptionally cold. 

It brings to mind the past, the different Past that existed around me up till that mellow autumn afternoon when I looked up into those eyes and wished for a final death. That Past had slowly retired into the recess of my mind, slowly releasing its strangling tentacles and suffocating hold.

I didn't realise, until now, that all these years, I had held my breath as I wander along the shadowy corridor void of his presence, in daylight bright and blinding as disapproval. Perhaps it is my obvious impending death that finally reassured them who serve my evening tea, for I no longer am spied upon, whispered about, and hidden away like a family embarrassment.

After the four years of tainted tea, I am finally unable to keep up with the pretence of health. With that, I am safely removed from the shiny façade of the Kuchiki house with the excuse of illness, which eventually faded when even the guest failed to notice my absence. Sometimes, as I listen to the hustle bustle of the mansion beyond the walls of my inner courtyard, it is as though that in the first place I never actually existed.

This inner courtyard is the extent of my world now, pure and simple under the cover of the white snow, so warm in its softness. Icicles line up beneath the gentle curve of the roof tiles, while thin frost seeps over the edge of the corridor floor, crumbling delicately underneath my feet. The trees are silent in their winter slumber, and the pond is sealed in glassy perfection, waiting for release by the spring.

Will I see the coming of the spring?  
The first snow robbed me of warmth; the last, it will take my breath.

The face I see in the mirror is paler than the snow but dulls in comparison. Raising my hand against the winter sunset, I could almost trace the lines of my wrist bone, slender like the elegant branches of the red plum tree, dipping low under the nearly weightless flower buds.

There is a quality of ethereal beauty to the sensation of myself slowly fading into nothingness. The world slows to a snail's crawl along the path of time, under that high, clear sky bleached by the cold. The wind seems to pass through me like the layers of brocade silk on me, bringing with it the bits and pieces of my earthly pains. Eventually, perhaps, I will too, be carried on that wind, away, far, far away.

Far, far away.  
.  
.

The thought is delicious.

Hisana, don't… The sentence ends with the unspoken taboo and Byakuya-sama's hands around mine.

I lean into his arms that shake like dry leaves in the wind, despite his attempt to remain calm. He holds me as though I am the snow that can melt in every breath of warmth, or new-born birds that can break under the desire to protect.

The air is wordless but pregnant with words that cannot find their way out.

This is the way my life is no longer mine and mine alone.

For if I am to sever my ties with existence, there will be one link that will not cease to bleed, with his blood after mine has long drained and dried.

Dark with pain, from my sin of betrayal and desertion.

The thought weights me down, onto the solid ground of reality.

* * *

.  
So... Sorry to all who were actually waiting for this chapter...I've taken a rather long..er..break from writing this fic...  
I was planning to end on this chapter... but the way things are going, that's not likely to happen, in fact, it has not happened...So, the Hisana-killing has to be done in some further one or two chapters...  
.  
...Till I find time again... 


End file.
